


Venti-size my love

by fish_wifey



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Dating, Established Relationship, Getting Back Together, Getting Together, Heartbreak, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mutual Pining, Second Chances, nonlinear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:02:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27023968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fish_wifey/pseuds/fish_wifey
Summary: Shirabu gives Goshiki a chance at romance during high school. Now he attempts for his second chance.Goshiki's view and path lead him to the top. And even with a broken heart, he can continue. So what happens when a flame thought long lost returns to his life?
Relationships: Goshiki Tsutomu/Shirabu Kenjirou
Comments: 6
Kudos: 34





	Venti-size my love

**Author's Note:**

> Straight up thought a shiragoshi thing on twit had shirabu holding a coffee cup so here we go.  
> I should be writing a model/mua au for them instead of this ahjdbajkjk I felt like finishing this one first~
> 
> For this fic, I had planned to start them out already in a relationship. But of course my fingers know getting together fics only and typed it on their own accord ww I will take the boys between current events and events in the past,,,with an eye on manga spoilers and making up own stuff for their respective 3rd and 2nd years & all the former eagle regulars gone~
> 
> Please enjoy~~
> 
> Also Leah if you're reading this, it's all your fault honestly wwww

Kenjirou looks up to the bangs, because it’s the one thing he used to always look at first. It’s a straight cut, obviously by Goshiki’s own hand. Nothing much has changed, except for this; Goshiki’s face looks narrower. As if he lost baby-fat over the year that Kenjirou hasn’t seen him. He’s definitely taller, more mature. His eyes shift around the room, wide-eyed at the surroundings he hasn’t been in before. Kenjirou smiles. All according to plan. 

This Starbucks was his favourite, his home ground. He had advantage here, so naturally he picked it when Goshiki asked where to meet him. In terms of taking initiative, Goshiki always had a lead on him. Part of Kenjirou might have never gotten to asking, given that he keeps his deepest feelings close to his heart. Its part of his armour to not let it surface. Again. He’s been at this place before, his heart younger and more fragile back then. Seeing Goshiki has the same effect as it did years ago, too. His feelings bubble up like boiling water, ready to jump out of the pot any moment. 

Kenjirou puts both his hands around his paper cup, for stability and support.

“The people that come here are as fashionable as the ones I see on the streets,” Goshiki notes, one hand around his much smaller cup. Kenjirou looks at the Tall vanilla latte Goshiki chose, after being overwhelmed when the barista asked him what he wanted. Kenjirou had gone with his usual; a Venti-sized café mocha, with hazelnut syrup and no whipped cream. He drinks it now, hating how cool and relaxed Goshiki sits back in his seat.

“The people on the streets,” Kenjirou repeats, gaining Goshiki’s attention. He shoots forward. 

“The ones I see with those cups! They always look very stylish,” Goshiki smiles, his voice anything but low. Several girls in their vicinity start to look, taking the compliments for themselves. Kenjirou gives them a sneer. “Just like you, Shirabu-san.”

The sneer melts away, and Kenjirou does everything to keep his face neutral. The pot is not allowed to overboil, after all. And he keeps it cool, acting like he doesn’t care about receiving compliments. Why should he? He wasn’t an attention-hungry puppy or anything. That was more Goshiki’s style. Or well, used to be, from what Kenjirou remembers somewhat fondly from his third year at Shiratorizawa. 

He takes several sips from his café mocha to avoid looking at Goshiki, or reply. Kenjirou’s tastes for coffee started at the same time he enrolled into med school. This Starbucks wasn’t the closest to campus, hence Kenjirou favouring it; the other one was always full of people he disliked. None of them were ‘fashionable’.

The cup holds his interest long after he’s put it down. He doesn’t look at Goshiki, because naturally that face would portray any emotion as clear as day, and Kenjirou knows what it would look like now; Goshiki’s face would fall after his compliment has gone uncared for. It was such an easy dynamic, to ignore compliments, or not give them himself. 

Just like their final year at the volleyball club together.

*

*

The ball leaves Shirabu’s fingertips in a graceful arc. Close to the antenna, just like Tsutomu likes it. The line shot is perfection itself; so close to the white court line that the referees have to confer to see if it was in or out. Of course it is in, Tsutomu saw it, knows it. When the point is given to Shiratorizawa, he lifts one fist up, makes a silent ‘hmpf!’ sound. 

They’re at set-point now, brought by his sharp crosses and inch-close line spikes. Tsutomu turns to Shirabu who sends him so many tosses today. The motivation is great, Shirabu’s faith in him today—

“That was way too close. Go for a cross or aim for a block out. You won’t stay lucky like this. The ball comes closer and closer to the line each and every time,” Shirabu says, his face neutral, his eyebrows just a bit frowny. Enough to let Tsutomu’s confidence in himself drop the slightest bit. This was the usual of the last 2 years; his senpai just never cared. 

It makes Tsutomu angry. He hasn’t missed one spike, only a serve. And while everyone pats his head and back, and his kouhai call out in what good form he is, there’s just nothing from Shirabu. Tsutomu huffs, going in position when Kawanishi’s next serve is up. He calls back to him, while Shirabu shields his head with two hands, looking forward.

“Nice serve,” Shirabu says, to Kawanishi. To his kouhai. Easily to everyone that isn’t Tsutomu. Tsutomu stares at him for a second, then catches himself. They’re in the middle of a match. He can take his frustration up with Shirabu later. For now they have to win. 

Tsutomu visualizes his next attack. How obvious it should be that Shirabu will send him as Shiratorizawa’s ace, the next ball. There’s no doubt about it, no matter how infuriating Shirabu is today.

Their cheer squad drum and yell how it’s just one more point. Not just the set, but to winning the quarter finals of the preliminaries. Tsutomu breathes out, as the cheer squad pump up Kawanishi, who serves the ball over the net, and scores the winning point.

He feels cold all over, instantly. The stands erupt in applause, calling out Kawanishi’s first name. In front of Tsutomu, the opponent team drops to their knees or stares up lost to the ceiling. He feels an inch of their pain, as he looks back over his shoulder to Kawanishi. Shirabu high fives him, holds Kawanishi’s hand in a tight manly grip, as Kawanishi’s hair gets ruffled by multiple hands. Tsutomu swallows his grief, his jealously, and runs over, joining the celebrations.

As Tsutomu’s arms go around his teammates on either side, and he gets pulled into the huddle himself, Tsutomu grins up at Shirabu. He instead looks down; that’s fine alright. Tsutomu will have Shirabu’s unyielding respect and admiration before the summer InterHigh prelims are over.

*

*

The hustle and bustle of the street falls away in the quiet of this alley. Tsutomu has no idea where he is, and so his feet lag a few steps, always watching where Shirabu is going next. Agreeing to accompany Shirabu on an errand had been one thing. Getting lost in a maze of alleyways and getting further and further from civilization quite another. Tsutomu isn’t scared, however. There are small shops here, tended by the young and the elderly. Everything is clean, and the smell of woodwork drifts from somewhere.

“Goshiki, it’s here,” Shirabu calls gently, pointing to a small shop with a stall outside. Tsutomu follows Shirabu. The store is tiny on the inside, and filled from floor to ceiling. Tsutomu browses around, seeing so many interesting knickknacks, all hand-made and precious. The designs are colourful, and the products range from postcards to pens and bookbags. There’s mugs on high shelves, price tags hanging down. And beneath the tables everywhere are round and square baskets, some filled with plaids or cushions. 

Tsutomu pics up one of the postcards, labelling the costs of just 200 yen. It has a magnificent eagle on it. Tsutomu finds a second one, grinning to himself. He doesn’t find any other goods with eagles, and so rounds the corner towards the cashier. An old lady sits behind it. Tsutomu waves, thinking her asleep.

Shirabu comes from the other side. He has three pens, different in colour, all with a wooden body. He puts down dice too, and a stack of olive green papers. They’re small in size.

“Ayamiyami-san?” Shirabu calls gently, and the woman nods in her sleep, then her voice calls the price of all together, and if Shirabu wants a bag or has one. Shirabu quickly retrieves a jute-bag from his jacket, unfolding it and holding it open. Then he pays, bowing low. 

Tsutomu holds the postcards in such a way that Shirabu won’t see what’s on them. He pays too, and accepts the lady’s offer to wrap his cards in protective paper, after which she hands them to him in a small plastic bag. Outside, Shirabu looks at a map on his phone, then up to the corners of the alleyways. When he notices Tsutomu, he starts walking. Sighing, Tsutomu follows. It’s what he does, isn’t it? Following a dream, a wish. Knowing that with hard work and proper motivation, anything can be his if he wants to.

And he wants Shirabu. Again.

*

*

This part of the Shiratorizawa campus is easily Kenjirou’s favourite. It’s serene and peaceful, and far away from so many things that not many students venture here. Eating his bento, Kenjirou leans back against the bench, watching the sun slowly go down. Soon it would be time to change, to practice, to toss a hundred balls, spike fifty more. To raise his voice, to do laps. To put his thigh muscles through the rigorous training the entire time. To calculate moves and strategies, to always be one step ahead of the opponent. 

No, his brain needs this peace here, now. Chewing properly and swallowing bite after bite, Kenjirou breathes in heavily. It’s not like he doesn’t want to practice or would rather be anywhere else but on the court. He just wishes that this moment could extend a little longer than a simple 45 minutes. 

His eyes narrow then, as footsteps reach the hidden place. Of course, he’s become greedy in his need; now the gods were punishing him. He should never take anything for granted. Kenjirou’s heart jumps when he watches Goshiki stumble forward, his legs quick. He’s looking behind himself, a blush on his face. Kenjirou’s face blanks. He’s never seen Goshiki so flustered and out of sorts. It almost looks like he’s running away from something. Interest peaked—and Kenjirou denies it with everything he can that it’s the blush working on him—Kenjirou makes himself known by a wave.

“What is it?” He asks as Goshiki stands close to the bench.

Goshiki’s mouth seems to work itself into more worry than a reply, making Kenjirou’s thin patience run out fast. Noticing this, Goshiki spits it out instead of chancing the wrath. 

“There’s a couple…they’re uh, embracing,” Goshiki whispers. As if he could be heard from the distance. Kenjirou fights the urge to roll his eyes, making an educated guess what ‘embracing’ means in the context of Goshiki’s unfading blush.

“You mean they got their tongues down each other’s throat?”

Yelping, Goshiki sits down next to him, his face even redder than before. “Shirabu-san, please! They can hear you!”

“Pfft, pretty sure they’re too far into each other to notice anything or anyone. You stomping across the pavement didn’t get them to stop. Anyway,” Kenjirou says, cutting off Goshiki’s stammering. “Why are you overreacting like that? It’s as if you have never kissed anyone yourself,” Kenjirou laughs, a rare laugh from him. It’s a bitter laugh, given that if Kenjirou could be kissing anyone without consequences, it very much would be Goshiki. Not just to know those lips, but to shut him up for once. 

Goshiki’s face turns tomato in a split second. Kenjirou blinks, his mind working. Wait, could it be…

“Have you never kissed someone?”

“Of course I have!” Goshiki bellows, any concern thrown to be heard suddenly gone. Kenjirou’s eyes widen a little, noticing how flustered and fidgety Goshiki has become. He’s lying. Teasing Goshiki would be easy, a welcome distraction even. It could even lead to more, if Kenjirou would want it that way. There’s no one here after all, and if the couple heard them, they might have just left already. There’s still time before practice, time to walk or run back if need be.

“Huh, funny. I wouldn’t have thought you’d be that much inexperienced.”

“I—I said I am not!”

“Which is clearly not the truth,” Kenjirou says, and his fingers tingle with an idea, a need. Against everything that he stands for, his hand reaches out. He’d expect Goshiki would slap his hand away, be awkward. But Goshiki doesn’t even flinch when the back of Kenjirou’s fingers run over his jawline. Goshiki’s lips, if they weren’t talking, were nice to look at. It’s what Kenjirou has thought since the end of April. In May he _knew_ that what he feels for Goshiki could never see the light of day, could never be known to the world. And yet, here, everything seems possible. Plausible even.

“Shi…rabu-san..?” Goshiki asks, one eyebrow crooked between doubt and not knowing what’s going on. It would be so easy to lean in right now. To simply test how far to go, to know what that mouth tastes like. How much fire Goshiki would bring into something so physical and pleasurable. Leaning forward would also mean too many things that Kenjirou cannot begin to unravel. So he retrieves his hand from Goshiki’s neck to close the lid on his unfinished bento, and packs it back up.

“We got practice soon. Let’s go.” Kenjirou gets up and leaves, not looking back. He cannot look back, even when there’s no footsteps following him. Even when looking back, going back, continuing the thought in his mind and his heart is all he wants to do.

Want. What a flimsy and unnecessary thing. Kenjirou cannot ‘want’ someone like Goshiki. It’s simply not what’s supposed to happen. 

Thing is, he was only one half of the equation who could be a deciding factor of what happens and what not. Because right after practice ends, Kenjirou gets pulled in by a hand on his wrist.

Into Goshiki’s embrace.

*

*

The crowd cheers after Tsutomu’s spike. Final set-point, won. Game, won. Tsutomu’s feet slam to the floor, and he’s immediately in a huddle of bodies and arms and hands, all congratulating him. Laughing, Tsutomu takes it all in, as the cheers grow louder and louder. They’re calling his name, the team’s name. He clasps hands with teammates, pulls them into hugs. Later he bows to the other team, to the fans.

And then he sees him. Shirabu on the second level, clapping along with everyone else.

Tsutomu races. He speeds through all the motions, declines invites to bars and restaurants and the onsen. He doesn’t let on anything, and leaves refreshed, his bag-strap slung around his chest. He races out to the bus area, thanking fans, taking presents. Fast as lightning, as his eyes casually try to find Shirabu somewhere. But he doesn’t.

Remembering that he has Shirabu’s new phone number, Tsutomu finds a quiet spot to call. It’s after the fifth ring that Shirabu picks up.

“Yes, hello?”

“W-where are you?” Tsutomu asks, biting his lip. What if Shirabu already left?

 _Again_.

“Ah, I am at the wrong exit…the other team is coming out here. I was mistaken. Which exit are you at?”

Tsutomu’s heart lights up at the question. He turns around to see and be sure, and they end up in the middle in the car parking space. Shirabu’s eyebrow rises a little.

“You’re uh. Not going back with your team?” 

Tsutomu quickly shakes his head. “Got all the time in the world for you, Shirabu-san!” Goshiki says, immediately regretting sounding so eager. Shirabu huffs, something akin to a smile spreading on his face before he quickly turns to locate his car. Goshiki trails along, then stops dead in his tracks. His jaw drops.

“Don’t look like that. It’s not mine, but a fifth year rich kid’s. A senpai at university,” Shirabu adds, opening the driver side door. He grins. “She’s top of her class because I help her memorize.”

Tsutomu’s jaw snaps back shut, his excitement dampened. He doesn’t want to get in the car anymore. Hand on the door handle, he wonders if he should go back, take his teammates up on the bar visit, and drown himself in beer. He yelps as the window on his side slides down. He ducks to see Shirabu’s irritated face.

“Are you coming or what? I don’t have all night, Goshiki.”

Getting in, Tsutomu slams the door. It’s neat and clean on the inside, and smells so good… Tsutomu crosses his arms over his chest, looking ahead. The car’s lights spring on, and Shirabu drives them smoothly out of the parking lot. It’s definitely not the first time he’s driving in this.

“…Why didn’t you tell me you had a girlfriend?”

The car jumps, stops, and Shirabu curses getting it back into gear. He bows to another driver in apology, having startled them.

“What are you on about? You should know I don’t like girls that way.”

Tsutomu’s head snaps around. “Y-you never were clear on that subject! And sexualities technically can change over the years, sometimes…”

“Well, mine hasn’t. I still like boys. Poor me, I still have the same type as in high school.”

The car is silent. Tsutomu doesn’t dare to breathe. Is that what people meant with charged energies in a small room!? Because it definitely feels that way. Shirabu’s dating life was never public knowledge, but for as long as Tsutomu was at Shiratorizawa… His arms and chest and throat unwind their respective tensions, and he takes a steadying breath in this heavy atmosphere.

“You mean…”

“Do you know how many bowl cut guys there are at my university? Too many. And their parents must cut their hair, too. No respectable hair dresser would cut them as short as those poor bastards wear them,” Shirabu laughs. “Want to see pictures? I went to one bar, once. After midterms, I was delirious enough to go on a bar crawl with a group of third years. They took a bunch of horrible photos back then.”

“Sooo. You’re not seeing anyone…special at the eh…moment..?” Tsutomu asks, hating how weak and desperate he sounds. But his hopes could get crushed any second now. Better not to get them up too high.

At a traffic light, Shirabu stops. His hands are on the wheel, his shoulders tense. Tsutomu watches a muscle in Shirabu’s jaw move; his tell that he’s waging one thing against the other. The light turns for him to go, and Shirabu continues on, letting silence once more enter in, like falling into the deep.

Tsutomu looks away, not expecting an answer anymore. 

“I am seeing you right now, don’t I?”

Hope rushes in like a tsunami wave, a thundering, slow, overruling power. “So you did come to see me play!” _And other things_ , but Tsutomu didn’t want to push his luck too much.

“…I was in the area. This senpai…she let me borrow her car for a couple of errands. I’m supposed to bring it back to her tonight. Got some time though,” Shirabu says, and Tsutomu is giddy. They don’t have much time, plus he’s supposed to be back in the hotel by midnight if he’s by himself and not with a group. Shirabu tells him about the errands, which is mostly ranting in a sub-monotone voice. Tsutomu remembers how Shirabu could go on a tangent for half an hour, then turn to you and ask what you’d wanted to eat.

Times may have changed, but that hasn’t. “Enough about my bureaucratic troubles. You must be hungry. I know a good place around this area—their fish is good, and not too pricey.”

*

*

“—and nevermind the expenses of living cost. Does he think about that? Of course not. Stupid rich kid. I knew his parents had money, but to think that everyone else does too... Naturally, I couldn’t remind him that I wasn’t as lucky. And what does Tendou-san say? I should go to med school on a sport’s scholarship. To med school. And still play volleyball? Good grief,” Shirabu rants, one arm under his head, the other around Tsutomu’s shoulder. “Can you believe that, Goshiki?”

Tsutomu couldn’t of course. He didn’t have much to offer to how Shirabu would manage going to his chosen medical school. He wasn’t working, and wouldn’t have time for it perhaps either. He didn’t doubt one bit that Shirabu would score high on the entrance exam, so that wouldn’t be a problem. Lying on Shirabu’s chest, Tsutomu enjoys hearing his heartbeat. It is calm and steady, like the man himself, like the tosses he sends Tsutomu, like his kisses.

“Do you look down on people who get help from their parents?” Tsutomu asks, not looking up to see Shirabu’s initial reaction to the question. He can hear the intention better when he’s not watching Shirabu, who even now that they’re together, can be so guarded when it comes to his facial expressions.

“No, not if they’re not overly stupid about it. I hate people that brag about their accomplishments or status, when they’re not even doing any work for it.”

“My parents have offered to fund me and my dreams…They said they’d help me find a place. Nothing too big or too wild but…They wanted me to have a home after graduation, something for myself,” Tsutomu explains, being demure about it. He’s worked hard for it, hasn’t he? Shirabu should know that.

“Oh, that’s very good. When did they say that?”

“After the summer InterHigh, actually,” Tsutomu says, not feeling bitter about the results he had then. 

“Hmmm, nice. They’re good parents. I do like them, you know,” Shirabu says, having met them a couple of times over the past year. Tsutomu smiles to himself. Then at last, he sits up a little, to look at Shirabu. Trying not to be distracted by the beauty of the face he’s seeing, or following the urge to kiss it senseless into the bed, Tsutomu rasps his throat.

“If living alone or in a dorm or with roommates isn’t something you want to continue after your first year is over, why not try and live with me then?” Tsutomu says, having thought if over thoroughly. Shirabu stares up at him, showing only mild surprise. It’s the same face he used to make before saying ‘Dear, Goshiki. You’re so stupid.’ It wasn’t a good indicator, but Tsutomu has been trying to talk about this since his parents offered the help. He wants to be with Shirabu.

Little else could have prepared Tsutomu for the following words, however. 

“Goshiki…I didn’t intend to continue our relationship after I graduate.”

White noise rushes in his ears. Everything else becomes numb; he doesn’t feel Shirabu’s hand on his face, doesn’t hear the words that follow. He doesn’t feel the push in his chest, that he’s made to sit up. Shirabu speaks, but Tsutomu doesn’t hear a single syllable. How could he listen to any explanation of why he and Shirabu wouldn’t be together in the future? What sort of condition is it to only be boyfriends _until_ Shirabu leaves for med school?

It doesn’t make sense.

“What…” Tsutomu croaks, minutes later. Feeling returns to his hands, and he bunches up Shirabu’s blanket within them. Wanting to hide. He feels his feet press into the mattress, one he’s slept in so many times in secret. He feels his eyes, burning with tears, his face, wet with them, his chin trembling. But what hurts the most is the feeling in his chest; his heart breaking, over and over. Until there’s nothing but powdered glass, to be blown away into the wind. Scattered into nothing.

Shirabu sighs.

“I am sorry…I. Med school will be hell. I will have student aid, but not enough to visit you often. And I cannot keep the aid if my grades fail, so all I have to do is study day and night. It’s not as breezy as any other university degree. And it will take 6 years of my life. I don’t want to be the boyfriend who doesn’t call or text back, who never has time, who never meets up. I wouldn’t cheat, ever, but I cannot promise you time and attention, Goshiki. I know your dreams, and you know mine the same way.”

Shirabu looks down now, as Tsutomu looks up to face him.

“I wish you wouldn’t have brought up living together. I cannot lie to you. You do mean a lot to me, and I wish I could offer something else.”

“But, if we live together…”

Shaking his head, Shirabu looks up, directly in his eyes. He offers no further comfort than the honest truth. “A year of what I just said, Goshiki. It would be like a long-distance relationship. And I know you. You crave attention, you want to be thought off first, put first. I cannot offer you that in my first year at university. I cannot travel back and forth, nor will I be able to give you time if you’d choose to visit me. I am truly sorry, Goshiki.”

He leaves. That’s it, isn’t it? There’s no way Tsutomu would hurt himself more and more on that knife’s edge. Staying on Shirabu’s bed, seeing him…it pains him too much. Shirabu has made his mind up, anyhow. And he was too stubborn to consider other options. Well, Tsutomu could be stubborn too, but he wouldn’t try on someone who already gave up.

If Shirabu wants to end it anyway, the sooner the better.

“Goshiki, wait,” he calls after him, but Tsutomu is already out of the door. 

He rushes past Kawanishi and a first year, ignores them too as they call his name.

Breaking into a run, Tsutomu rushes past his dorm room, down the stairs, away from the area. He flees into the woods surrounding the school, to let the dark take him and his pain, to let himself be as loud as he wishes without causing upset for others. Here where he yells and sobs and punches a tree. For once not concerned with his bodily condition, or how unsightly he must look.

It’s better this way, to have it over now. Then he can get used to it already.

*

*

“You’re clicking your tongue an awful lot,” Taichi says, scrolling down his phone. He clicks his tongue too, but it’s way more lowkey. Kenjirou knows he’s being annoying. Knows as well that he shouldn’t impose in Taichi’s room. After all, Taichi has his own anxieties about leaving Miyagi, living someplace else.

With the back of his head on Taichi’s bed, Kenjirou rolls his head to the side. He’s never thought that, being the one to break up, he’d be the one hurting the most. 

All day, Goshiki had been in a good mood. Then on their off day, he left to meet up with some other Miyagi 1st years who are close in the area. And where was Kenjirou? Moping around in his best friend’s room, being a nuisance. He clicks his tongue again. _Now who is the brat? Oh joy, I am._

Sitting on his bed with a pillow in his back, Taichi reaches Kenjirou’s shoulder easily with his foot.

“I figured you came here to talk, but you’ve just being pissed off in my room instead of in the gym. What’s wrong?” Taichi says, throwing audibly his phone to the bed. Kenjirou doesn’t turn his face to look at him.

“Found any suitable closet apartments?” Kenjirou bites back. Taichi doesn’t let it get to him.

“Hey, we’re not switching subjects to my sorry ass and the state of urban Tokyo’s expensive housing. We’re talking about you and Goshiki,” Taichi says, transferring himself from his bed to the floor next to Kenjirou. Respecting Kenjirou’s wishes to not be touching if it’s not necessary, Taichi keeps some distance between their arms.

“Well, for starters. There is no ‘and Goshiki’,” Kenjirou says. And admitting it shouldn’t make his chest hurt. Or his eyes prick. Or his fingers fidget. He looks forward, still unable to look at his friend. It’s been a week since Kenjirou broke up with Goshiki. Prematurely. He had somewhat hoped they could continue right up until Kenjirou’s graduation. But seeing Goshiki like that on his bed, running out…and unable to meet with him at all that evening. Kenjirou had sighed, let him go. But a week passed, and Goshiki seemed…unperturbed. 

“I don’t get it. He seems fine right? Then what is my problem.”

“Your own fear, I guess.”

That makes Kenjirou’s face snap. “What?”

Taichi shrugs his shoulders. “Fear of not being able to give him what he needs. Those were your words, remember? You didn’t say ‘fear’, but it was clear that was bothering you.” Taichi stares forward now, not meeting Kenjirou’s confused and questioning gaze. Kenjirou had told him all about that evening. Tachi said ‘ouch’ at a lot of points, but didn’t show any disdain for Kenjirou’s choices in life.

“Plus, you just didn’t want the one to be hurtin’, did ya? So instead you thought, breaking up first would give you some kind of advantage.”

Kenjirou looks down to his knees. He doesn’t want to admit any of it out loud. Definitely not to give Taichi any sort of satisfaction of being right. He wishes Taichi would have caught the bait earlier and rant about the horrible pricing ranges in the city he wants to live after graduating.

“Anyway, shouldn’t you be happy? The person you care about is alright. Or are you actually pissed that Goshiki can move on? He’s handling it pretty maturely, I guess. Oh, is that what’s ticking you off? You did not expect that behaviour from him at all, and now you think ‘shit I let him go’.”

Blinking, Kenjirou answers all of Taichi’s questions in seconds…in his head. Then he gets up and leaves.

“You’re no help at all, Taichi.”

*

*

It was a shock. Realization, hitting him all over again. Goshiki was mature, has been. Did Kenjirou usher it into this world, by breaking up?

It must be the shock that has Kenjirou pressing Goshiki into the side of his senpai’s car. Kissing him. Kenjirou has to lean up, which he hates above everything but it can’t be helped. Goshiki’s lips are up there, and so that’s where the white wine Kenjirou had with his fish course is leading him to. His hands roam over Goshiki’s sides, up to that perfect chest—muscle memory has Kenjirou’s dick twitch, anticipating Goshiki’s hands on him soon.

But nothing happens, and Kenjirou has the dignity and grace to back off and apologize.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—I didn’t ask you out to dinner to just…I am sorry—” Kenjirou says again, but the second apology is swallowed by an hungry mouth. Goshiki’s hands frame his face, reeling him back into the heat of the kiss. They slam against the car once more, this time Kenjirou trapped with the metal in his back and the all-consuming warmth that is Goshiki’s body pressing to his front.

There was no taste of wine on Goshiki’s lips. He’s barely tasted it from Kenjirou’s glass, not wanting any himself. Kenjirou finds himself delirious, legs spreading as Goshiki’s thigh snakes between. Welcoming him back after so much time has passed.

Goshiki’s mouth doesn’t leave him. Neither does the man himself. 

*

*

Tsutomu had expected to be dropped off at the hotel. Expected Shirabu to wave goodbye. To stand on the sidewalk, watching stoplights blink away into the night, and out of sight. 

Instead, Tsutomu finds himself hiding behind a corner. He hears Shirabu’s words of gratitude towards his senpai, the jingle of keys as they change hands. And quick as light, Shirabu walks down the street towards where he left Tsutomu and instructed him to wait. The last thing Tsutomu expected was to kiss Shirabu again, to almost go to a point they couldn’t back out of against the car. But expectations now run high with Shirabu’s hands linking through his, a warm and known feeling Tsutomu has missed.

They walk all the way to Tsutomu’s hotel. The front desk welcomes him by name, without raising an eyebrow at the new guest. Shirabu has to sign in however, so the staff knows how many people are in the building.

But after that? It’s a quick run up the stairs, with Tsutomu giddy, and Shirabu smiling as he burst and cannot stop it.

They’re through the door, and out of their clothes, as they start to kiss and guide one another through the hotel room. Tsutomu is too wired to think, and soon gets himself pulled away from the bed and into the bathroom. Shirabu has lost his upper garments to get rid of. He doesn’t help one bit, more concerned pulling down Tsutomu’s pants as his mouth trails Tsutomu’s neck and shoulders. But Tsutomu isn’t one to back off from a challenge, and removes one layer after the other from Shirabu’s upper body. Kissing each other in between each piece of clothing successfully chucked to the floor.

“Lift me,” Shirabu whispers hotly, as soon as there’s nothing left to remove. Tsutomu had freshened up after the match, but he needs a shower. He’d warned Shirabu that warm water tends to take some time, and so Shirabu had turned it on in between undressing Tsutomu. And yet, Tsutomu has to take a breath. Even though he knows Shirabu might scold him if he takes too long. But he can’t stop staring. It’s been some time…and his hope becomes a fire burning his skin. Shirabu could burn him too, leave him, hurt him all over again. Confident and strong, Tsutomu waves the negative thoughts away.  
They’re here, now. Naked and unafraid, Tsutomu steps forward, knees bending as his arms reach under Shirabu’s ass and lift him up. Shirabu’s hands place themselves onto Tsutomu’s muscular shoulders, as they start a softer kiss than their mouths have ever known. 

Tsutomu brings them under the shower, letting it run over them in splashes and waves. Tsutomu doesn’t retreat, doesn’t force anything apart from what Shirabu wants. What they both want. 

The sound of water, interrupted by kisses, becomes a symphony in which their hands unravel one another more and more. Until the bond between them tightens as of old. Stronger, better. Tsutomu feels himself push Shirabu into the tiled wall, letting him sink down. Tsutomu’s mouth kisses all over, from the chest to the collarbone, up the throat, into the neck, towards the ear and then the cheek. When their mouths meet once more, it’s deafening, all-consuming. Heat that halts for a second, appreciating the feel of lips melting into one.

Shirabu opens his eyes halfway, peering over Tsutomu’s wide-open star-struck ones.

“Please,” he says, and Tsutomu smiles. He nods, and then let’s Shirabu sink all the way down onto him. Consumes the moan that erupts from Shirabu, too. His. His once more.

*

*

Kenjirou ignores the loud snort and the man it came from, now incoming sideways. He keeps his eyes on the court, clapping his thunder sticks together when everyone else does too. Taichi steps forward, grabs one and pulls it—Kenjirou’s wrist along—to see if anything was written on it. Taichi whistles.

“I am not ashamed,” Kenjirou says, voice low and eyes deadly. Taichi doesn’t say anything, simple takes his seat standing next to Kenjirou. 

“Nah, it’s fine. You even wear his shirt!” Taichi says, suddenly breaking into a laugh. Kenjirou scoffs, then looks forward once more, watching as it’s Tsutomu going up for his warm up spikes. The entire stadium is packed.

“Of course I am,” Kenjirou says, knowing this wouldn’t have been a natural thought to have years ago. He always saw himself cheering on Ushijima, to wear his jersey. Kenjirou has those too, both the Adlers and the National team versions. But he hides them away now, as to not make Tsutomu jealous. Tsutomu and he only wear Ushijima’s Japan jersey when Japan plays.

“Did you buy his away shirt as well?”

Kenjirou snaps his head to Taichi. “I have two of each, you know. Two to wear at games, and two for…other activities.” Kenjirou says with a grin, enjoying how alluding to something dirty shuts Taichi up completely. He wears Ushijima’s jersey, a bold move as they’re standing on the AP Green Rockets side. But Kenjirou exudes enough energy to intimidate anyone standing around them not to harass the intruder. At least Taichi has the decency to chime in with the cheers for Tsutomu’s practice spike. 

“You think he’s going to beat Ushijima?”

“Tsutomu has enough fire. He wants to block Hoshiumi, be better than Kageyama in spikes, and defeat Ushijima soundly.”

“Not answering my question,” Taichi laughs, and Kenjirou grumbles. He wants Tsutomu to win. And he will cheer him on all the way.

“We all came from the same nest, Taichi. Do not underestimate my boyfriend, please,” Kenjirou says, glad to see Tsutomu in splendid form during warm-ups. Neither of the two who stopped playing have any regrets, and Kenjirou was glad they could make it to a match of their former teammates this time. “Here, let’s take a picture for Semi. He will the one missing out _this_ time, hah!” 

Making sure they send one very neutral, bored-faces picture to Semi, and then their usual, very private dumb faces for themselves, Kenjirou quickly puts his phone away and continues to cheer AP Green Rockets on. He’s sure that he’ll be in awe with Ushijima too, but nothing can beat the feeling in his chest when he watches Tsutomu play. Despite being busy all the time, Kenjirou time manages his study work so that he could be present for all of Tsutomu’s matches. Even when his boyfriend says it’s not needed. Kenjirou has some making up to do, and will follow Tsutomu’s wins and losses. 

His dedication makes him feel 0 shame for having thunder sticks with the calligraphy of ‘Undefeatable – Goshiki ♡♡♡’—handwritten of course, as nothing else would do.

Taichi may laugh all he wants. Kenjirou’s chest fills up with pride and joy when Tsutomu turns to him on the court. The audience claps for him, while Kenjirou stays very still. Tsutomu points directly at him, winks, then pounds his chest with his fist.

‘For you, I will win!’

“Dawww, aren’t you guys adorable!” Taichi says, and Kenjirou doesn’t look away from Tsutomu even when he’s turned away. He also misses a chance to stop Taichi from taking pictures of him blushing, from kicking him, or from dismantling Taichi’s phone before the asshole sends those pictures to god knows who. Kenjirou wouldn’t run away again from the love he feels for Tsutomu. He would remain by his side, no matter what.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote a Goshiki pov ending but wasnt super happy with it, so whoever wants to can read [this outtake on tumblr .v./](https://fish-wifey.tumblr.com/post/632224781386792961/tall-on-the-side-fic-outtake)
> 
> Also I wanted to make this M-rated but it felt just fine with me being T :O
> 
> Oh original title was 'our love is venti-sized' but it felt a little small??? With this title I wanted it to be like 'ok i order it again but bigger this time'. also when I came up with this Madonna-homage title I just. gasped.


End file.
